Senescence
by Blink0-22
Summary: The winds of change are not in Randall Bogg's favour. Only just post MU and pre MI. Rated T for uses of strong language. In progression.
1. Chapter 1

At first, I was going to wait until I got more of this done, but since I've reached the 10,000 words mark on this story, I've decided to finally upload it and release it to all of you. I have not written for so long, I've wondered whether I could again. Please review; I value your comments on my return to the fanfic writing world.

* * *

"_Define senescence" - the condition or process of deterioration with age._

* * *

Randall Boggs knew that his time was here. He balled his bottom set of hands into tight fists and exhaled in an effort to relieve the tension. His vision became less cloudy and his fronds perked in alert. He removed the emblem of his fraternity brotherhood from his shoulders and placed the jacket on the bench. Unknown to him, he would never again be one of them.

Johnny Worthington, grinning from Javier's previous victory turned to look at Randall, his look of pleasure replaced by that of authority.

"Don't disappoint Boggs."

Randall's second arm clutched his wrist and fidgeted and he narrowed his eyes to slits in an attempt to hide his nerves. He averted his gaze from Johnny's, avoiding facing extra pleasure. As Randall paced past Javier, swapping positions with his teammate, Javier shot him his own trademark stern look. Randall ignored him. He met with the start line and looked at his opponent.

"Next up, Sullivan and Boggs." Brock boomed into the loudspeakers.

Sullivan looked at him with a look of opposition before crouching. He looked him up and down, baring his teeth before getting into position. He tried to blank his mind, focusing on the simulator at the end of the field. His hearing peaked, listening for the blast of noise. He tensed his limbs, his second set of arms pushing on the soft grass with his tail curled at frond height.

And off they went, slithering and sprinting across the field. They reached their doors simultaneously. He studied his child's settings carefully, his analytically sound mind pondering his tactic. LIVES IN AUSTRALIA, SCARED OF SPIDERS AND SNAKES. He gave a grin. He thought he had it in the bag.

He flew through the door, closing it behind him with his tail apex. His underbelly greeted the floor as he carefully sauntered in one swift motion over the toys scattered on the floor and up the wall. He focused and disappeared, his scales taking on the pattern of the wall. Waiting. Poised. He bared his teeth in excitement. He'd been just a whisper.

Suddenly he felt the walls shake. The distant rumble of a gigantic roar shook the simulator like an earth tremor. He was in such surprise he lost his padded grip on the wall and yelped. He smacked his jaw on the pink, heart covered rug and pulled his front up steady. Panic. Fresh panic. Out of time.

Leaping towards the end of the bed, he raised his arms and fronds and gave as best a roar as he could manage. As he exited the room, his heart dropped. He knew he'd lost a huge portion of his potential score. His disappointment turned to fear as he thought of the Roars waiting for him.

"Ah tough break for the Roars" he heard as he walked, clutching his hands together back to his place. He turned to glance at the board before colliding with Johnny. The wind knocked out of him briefly.

"Huh?"

Johnny looked ready to kill.

"HEARTS?!"

Randall took a step back, afraid. He parted his hands and looked down at himself. 'Oh shit'. His body matched the rug in the simulator, pink with hearts all over him, sickeningly cute. Deathly unscary. He gasped in horror at himself and his situation. 'You stupid idiot, why didn't you check before the scare!' Everyone could see him. They were all chattering, laughing at his error. He felt ready to cry.

"Way'to go BOGGS" Chet spat whilst the others growled and peevingly looked down at him. Even with his height, average for a monster, he felt incredibly small. Insignificant. He turned to look at the OKs who patted and congratulated their champion of the round.

He felt an intensity of emotion that he had never felt before. Heart ready to dtop to his feet, he saw Mike, the proudest of the group patting Sullivan on the back. Jealously plagued his heart. Just a few months ago, he had been his friend. His. Just them two in an environment filled with a popularity desire. How they had loathed Sullivan's ability to escape consequence. The one who everyone didn't have to judge. The one who everyone seemed to blindly believe, would become a naturally great scarer. Mike had seen this too. He'd never known anyone to work so hard, even he who had studied endless days for his end of year school finals. He had hoped Sullivan would have his comeuppance one day.

Seeing Mike 'betray' what friendship they'd had was a raw pain inside of him. No, it made him realise how naive he'd been. He had abandoned a friendly face for a game of 'you say jump I ask how high'. To hang out with and impress the 'cool kids' who he thought were the answer to his painful loneliness. All he wanted was acceptance.

Hate boiled inside of him. At himself. At Sullivan. He wiped his visible upset from his face and sneered. Gone was his pathetic pink and back was a deeper shade of purple, saturated in hatred. He leaned forward, seething.

"That's the last time I lose to you, SULLIVAN."

The tension left his body and he folded his arms in a defensive posture. He curled his lip as he watched Johnny and Mike take their own places. Turning around briefly to see what the others were doing, he saw his jacket on the bench. His hardened face deflated in sadness. It was splattered with dirt, the material soiled, ruined. Chet laughed as he stomped over it with his claws. He smirked at Randall, raising his head his head in the lizard's direction. Randall turned away again, urging himself to concentrate on the game rather than upsetting himself.

He saw Johnny deliver his performance in one earsplitting sound which belonged in a nightmare. Clearly thinking that the Roars had triumphed again, he slammed the door shut on his exit and raised his claws awaiting applause.

"Johnny, you're my hero!" Chet hollered, amusingly sounding like an obsessed fan. Randall smirked at the thought, before remembering his own failure and he quickly obscured his head from Johnny's view as he sauntered back over, blowing kisses to the audience.

"Looks like we have another trophy here bo-"and he was silenced by the scream of his contestant in his own simulator. Mike scored maximum points on the scoreboard and a cannon of confetti erupted in celebration. Johnny's face was a picture. Randall may have found this amusing if he had been paying attention. His own jaw was agape, staring, puzzled, and trying to figure out just how this was possible. Mike had won the Scare Games for his team.

As much as Randall had persisted with helping him study for their December exam, he had known, rather guiltily, deep down that although Mike had the intellect of a great scarer, his exterior was rather lacking in anything that would reveal fear from a child. Randall, from fear of upsetting his already determined past friend, had thought it be best that he remained adamant with giving praise and encouragement for Mike. After all, Mike's own aspirations inspired him and gave him confidence in his abilities. But to see this result, he was shocked to his core. His own sharp intellect told him this was somehow a fix. But would he let his own rather distraught fraternity in on this instinct? No he would not.

Johnny remained motionless, watching the flood of monsters from the audience bays go to congratulate the Oks. After a few seconds, his mouth finally closed. After a few minutes, when the field was beginning to quiet down, he turned around to face his brothers. No one dared to speak. The silence of their leader told them of his rage. Johnny blinked a few times, before adapting his usual posture and neutral expression and walking towards the exit. Randall did not exactly know what to do. Uncomfortable, he reached for his jacket, it still bearing the stains of his failure. He almost felt like a ghost as people had shoved by him, unchanged by his presence. It turned out he didn't need his blending abilities to feel invisible.

"Boggs." Worthington called. He had stopped in his progress, not even bothering to turn around. Randall flinched and he gave a small gulp. "Pack up your things and get out of the house."

Randall looked round to the others in the fraternity, with trembling hands and sagging fronds. Not that he expected them to say anything at all. His lip quivered as he opened his mouth to speak. Johnny must have interpreted this reaction.

"I don't care what you have to say." He rose his voice. "Roars do not permit failures. You have disgraced our name and the standard of our abilities."

Randall had to hold his breath to hold back the tears creeping into the corners of his eyes.

"We need to savor what we can boys." They collectively agreed, albeit a trembling Randall. "I want you out of the house by tonight."

And then they all left, leaving Randall realizing his worst fears about university. Being alone.

* * *

The walk back had been torturous for him. Outside the brightness of the overhead lights in the stadium, everything was dark and bleak. Randall's anxiety had peaked and he was deathly afraid of people ceasing the exciting chatter of OK's victory and then beginning their vicious insults towards him. He cursed his physical differences to the other monsters. If he had the generic looks of other monsters he could have blended in. Now he looked as obscure as ever.

He stuck to the shadows of the trees along the path leading to the amphitheater, and thanked the darkness of the pedestrian bridge as he crossed underneath the road above him. This was taking him longer than it usually did; his steps were slow and cumbersome, rather than with his usual grace. He had neither the energy nor courage to blend again. Terror was a dark cloud as he wondered that if he managed to blend again, those disgusting pink hearts would appear on his scales again. Since this was all he could think about, it would be a huge possibility. He couldn't go through it again. Not again.

Once inside the house, shrouded in darkness, he noticed how different it looked and how it made him feel. The corridors with their arches and marble felt cold. The red of the carpet was angry and hurt his eyes to look at. Portraits which lined the walls with trophies in glass cabinets high above his head were intimidating as they cruelly looked down upon him. He swallowed with difficulty, his throat dry and tried to ignore the various objects.

'Man the hell up. It's nothing.' He told himself, even though his exterior told a different story.

After reaching his room, he pulled the cases and bags from his cupboard, their luxury purple bright against his slightly pale lilac. He began gathering his things, folding them at first, neatly, into rows in each bag. He cursed himself for bringing so much. How many pillows did he really need?

Looking underneath the bed, he noticed the slippers he'd bought along with him and wrinkled his nose at them. He'd thought they were cute. They at least kept his feet warm some.

'Cute like you huh Randy?' he thought to himself.

"Shut the fuck up."

Tossing them into the bag, he looked around at the last few things that were placed in their organized positions. His 'Winds of Change' poster hung high on the wall. Climbing up the hard surface, he grabbed it and stared at it, sighing. 'I can't hear bloody anything' he thought. Finally, he went to the bedside drawer and pulled out his broad rimmed purple glasses.

He fiddled with them in his palms, stroking the rims and smudging the lenses with his fingerprints.

"_Lose the glasses, they give it away._" He remembered. 'If you'd listened more to Mike in the first place…'

"Well, Mike's gone!" he screamed, throwing the glasses on the floor in rage. The crack of broken glass broke the following silence. "That's just great…" He groaned, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his fronds, feeling them scatter over his head.

He reached down and took them off the carpet. Damn, he'd thrown them with a lot of force. A huge scar ran through the centre of the left circular lens. The right lens was just as bad. Even the frame looked bent. Great, he'd have to ask his parents to buy him some more.

'My parents...' he thought. Oh god. What would he tell them? 'That your son was a failure in front of the whole university?'. They'd ask questions if he called. It's what they always did. No, the glasses would have to wait. He couldn't face having to explain everything to them. He placed them carefully in the top of a bag, almost laughing in irony at the delicacy he did it with.

Zipping the cases up, he grabbed as many handles as he could and pulled with strength he had forgotten he had. Now he just had to figure out exactly what he was going to do. He supposed he would talk to monster at the front desk of the dorms and get some advice. When he had moved into the MU dorms the first time, everything had been organized, planned, just the way he liked it. Even when joining the ROR brotherhood (at which the mere thought now was a punch in the gut), monsters had assisted him in everything from moving his personals to congratulating him on attaining his place. Now that he fully realized the weight of his luggage, he wished they were near.

Finally reaching the gigantic door on frat row, he remembered that he now had the problem of lugging all of it up to the dorms. Without a guarantee he could stay the night there. He sighed, a sudden weakness travelling down his slender body in one long rhythm. One tear dripped onto the concrete and he sniffed with a curse under his breath. He gave one last glance into the Roars house before abandoning it.


	2. Chapter 2

"You mean there is NOTHING available tonight?" Randall pleaded, his eyes wide, even though this did nothing for his poor eyesight.

"I'm sorry there uh…"

"Boggs" he responded, with a flick of his tail.

"Mr. Boggs. It's not the universities policy to transfer the accommodation of a student immediately outside of an emergency." The receptionist responded, with questioning eyes. Randall did not really want to explain his case, but he had the feeling he might be pushed into a corner. "There is paperwork that needs to be-"

"-This IS an emergency!" Randall cried, waving his arms and pulling his tail into an upside down U shape.

"Our records indicate you are staying in the Roar Omega Roar fraternity housing." The receptionist replied, eyes solid, emotions unmoved.

Randall turned away. "Well, as of tonight, no longer…"

"Well, officially Mr. Boggs, you still are. I can't do anything within the university tonight until tomorrow. Even then, it could take two to three days to sort the paperwork."

"Great." His voice broke a little as he pulled his fronds back towards his head. He felt entirely helpless. He'd never known what it was like to be homeless, even if for a few days. But now he knew, it was horrible. Degrading. He felt like the dirt monsters walked on.

"Wha-What do I do?" he whimpered.

The receptionist suddenly felt rather guilty about his assertive tone. Cases such as this rarely happened at Monsters University; he was just another fellow student, a year above the freshmen, just trying to earn some extra money. He'd been trained in the rules to deal with such requests and he knew he couldn't bend the rules for anyone. Not if the principal had anything to do with it.

"There is a B&amp;B about 400 yards from the entrance of the university? When our international students arrive, they usually use it before their accommodation is sorted." He offered. "Although, the university can't pay for it this time, since this isn't an-"

"Emergency" Randall finished sadly, staring distantly towards the wall. "Yeah. How much is it?"

"50 mondollars a night."

Randall sighed again and rested his head in his hands. It didn't seem like he had much choice in his position but to accept. His parents had given him a credit card before he'd left for emergencies. He was now thankful to have it.

"Right I'll go." He decided, his voice quieter than usual. "I'll be back tomorrow to sort the paperwork."

"Okay Mr. Boggs." The conversation ended there and Randall was almost glad to know he wouldn't have any more bad news.

He grabbed his suitcases and groaned as he pulled them out of the dorms and towards the exit to Monsters University.

* * *

Randall lay in the bed he had for the night, unable to fall asleep. He hadn't bothered to take any of his comforter pillows out of the bag to reduce the discomfort on his back right now. His body wasn't particularly made for an average monster bed. In this one, his bottom pair of legs were outside the length of the duvet and his tail had to curl on the wooden floorboards. The receptionist had not really paid too much attention to his size requirements and him being too drained and anxious from the day, he hadn't made a particular fuss of changing his room. He wasn't outside and that counted for something. And this floor was quiet, something that rarely happened in the dorms.

Only now, did his mind begin racing about the day, keeping him awake. How much things could change in the space of a few hours. Just this morning he had woken up in his rather luxurious sleeping quarters in the Roars house. He'd been more positive and determined about that scaring challenge than any other. True, his abilities perfectly matched the 'hide and seek' challenge, but he'd never held his blend that long before. Proving that he could succeed in this, he was even more confident about the 'Scare Simulator, despite the Oozma Kappas becoming their opponents and not, for instance the Jaws Theta Chi's. That fraternity had never even passed the first round before for a reason. Or so Johnny Worthington had said.

From the day Worthington had approached him, he'd had it drilled into him that the group was elitist and anyone below that would not make the cut. Randall had been, he rather pathetically admitted, scared of him. He was as intimidating as jocks went; well, as intelligent jocks were that is. Worthington was completing his master's degree in scaring and he had already openly proved his brawn and intellect at exam papers.

Randall, out of his kindness, rather hated to speak rude of the other fraternities and sororities, but he had to admit that he did see many representations of university stereotypes. The JOX, PNK HSS and EEK's were strength, cheerleaders, goths and athletic obsessives. The JOX were close to the RORs but did not possess the same standard of intelligence. Many of the other fraternities and sororities had large similarities to these categories, even though they were clans in their own rights. But it was always the RORs that were the top of the pile, the group that always associated with the very best scarers. Randall couldn't have believed his luck when he fell into their group.

The memory of his initiation ceremony made the thought of his dismissal even sourer to his mouth. It had been elaborate, honorary and almost religious. He'd sworn his oath, taken the fraternity brotherhood unbreakable vow and promised success. It was this unbreakable vow which had really prevented him from joining the OK's. Truthfully, even though he had felt the burden of refusing Mike's request to join Oozma Kappa, he had an overwhelming sense of pride for being affiliated with the Roars instead. They weren't laughing at him then. If he had known his affiliation would end like this, in a lonely hotel room, his unbreakable vow would have felt like hand cuffs dragging him to his fate.

Now here he was. A true nobody. No fraternity, no friends, no accommodation. A huge weight of loss. Was it even worth getting up in the morning?

Randall hugged himself as the tears finally fell, dampening his pillow. A few hours later he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

He yawned as he sat up in the early morning light. The clock on the wall showed half past 7. He couldn't remember whether he'd ever had this less sleep. He held his head, a dull ache tugging behind his eyes. Standing on all four feet, he made it to the tiny ensuite bathroom, finding it slightly unusual that he'd even received this much for the measly mondollars he'd paid.

Tugging on the light switch, his eyes tried to refocus in the initial blinding brightness. Red, angry eyes blinked back at him in the smudged mirror. His acne on his snout looked worse than it usually did; he'd forgotten what stress did to it. Turning the taps, he splashed water on his face to try to reduce their appearance, to no apparent avail. Then he ran a wet hand through his fronds, cooling himself down.

Classes continued today. He didn't know whether after last night's escapade he should even try to show his face. But on the other hand, he did have scare exams to worry about. Randall debated bunking off for the first time in his life. He clasped his hands in worry, wondering what his parents would say if they found out. They were paying his university fees and they would not approve him calling in sick if he wasn't. Then he remembered the accommodation he had to sort. Looking around at the hotel room, he knew he'd much rather at least be back on campus and hide in his room than here. He sighed, making his decision.

He finished up in the bathroom, grabbed his book and stationary, then left to get some breakfast.

* * *

"Now, the relative toxicity of a childs doll to a childs bear can be calculated using a rather simple equation. This was designed by Arthur Von Monsterberg in…"

9:43 am. Randall usually enjoyed his Monday morning lectures with Professor Knight, contrarily to many. Today it was calculating and comparing toxicity levels of children's items and clothing. Whenever maths was involved, the majority of the class would usually groan in unison. That was at least no different today. Whenever Professor Knight mentioned 'simple' it was usually the opposite. However, Randall and a few other sparsely seated monsters loved the challenge maths presented. To Randall, it had been one of his favorite subjects in high school. He liked how concrete maths was, that the majority of the time, one answer explained it all. Additionally, his understanding of how many everyday monster objects and forces was greatly elaborated the more he delved into the application of maths. If he hadn't been drawn to becoming a scarer, he would most certainly have chosen a career in engineering.

He wasn't enjoying Monday today though. His senses were peaked and his heart ready to burst. Randall's eyes were consistently darting around the room, agitated at the company. Sweat coated his hands and brow. Most of the students were too busy either falling asleep on their desks or writing down what Professor Knight was saying, but Randall couldn't shake the feeling that all their eyes were on him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could sit here until he passed out or worse, blended accidentally again.

Suddenly, he caught the eye of a student who had turned round to look at him. Randall froze in shock, trying to calm his breathing. The dude elbowed his friend whose eyes were heavily starting to close. He woke and his friend, the dude, pointed at Randall. They started to snigger.

'They were there. They saw me screw up, I need to leave. I need to go NOW' Randall's feet and tail quivered and he had to use all his strength to not bolt for the door at the back of the lecture theater. 'Fuck, oh no, I can feel it happening!'.

His scales began to fade from his deep, smoky purple to a deathly pale white. Randall bit his tongue in concentration, drawing blood. Sweat now dripped down his face as he tried to force his normal colour to saturate back through. The trembles carried up his body and his upper set of arms forcibly squeezed the arm rests of the chair.

"Oh my god, look he's doing it again!" They had still been watching and were now laughing quietly, throwing back their heads. However, they'd underestimated the volume of their laughter and Professor Knight quickly caught on.

"Frier, McDowell, quiet please." He shouted in annoyance. He turned to look at Randall, who although still retained his purple colour, looked noticeably paler, even from the teacher's position at the front. He raised his eyebrow and then continued.

Randall let out a pent up breath, expressing some gratitude that the two male students had stopped. However, he had purely hated how Professor Knight had looked at him like that. Like he couldn't cope with it. He began to hate them. He began to hate them all. He looked back over at the two lads who'd finally quietened down and were looking at him with a smirk. His eyes narrowed in scorn.

Then, he looked around the room for Sullivan, an object to beam his hatred on. He wasn't there? He would have thought that him, Mike and the other Oozma Kapper brothers would immediately be returned to class? The lecture forgotten and his anxiety slightly reduced by this thought, he began to wonder what exactly was going on.

He awoke from his daydream from the sounds of scuffling feet and bags. In one swift slither, he'd grabbed his things and exited the lecture hall.

* * *

The first lecture over with, he hurried to the dorms to begin the process of sorting his accommodation. He need to get that over with as quickly as possible. Hopefully by that afternoon, he could move back in the dorms.

The process was the same as he'd done before back at home before moving to university. Reviewing countless documents of health and safety, code of conduct, et cetera et cetera, before animating himself to sign certain documents. It turned out that he could have his room the first thing next morning, disappointed that it couldn't be tonight, although he was grateful he'd paid for two nights at the hotel already.

With that sorted, it had already hit 1pm in the afternoon. Being starved and tired did not mix well. He contemplated sticking to some vending machines, but realized that this would not fill his hunger. He needed a full meal, but this would mean facing a cafeteria packed full of other hungry students. The thought of everyone turning to look at him as he walked in was terrifying. But the growl in his stomach overtook his senses; hunger was something not easily tolerated by monsters alike.

When he got there, it seemed like everyone was too busy eating and chatting in their groups to notice him, the loner, collecting his lunch. Along with his hearty dinner of roasted spleen of ox, mouldy bread and slimy fries, he collected a large cup of black coffee, to heighten his senses and fight his tiredness. At first, the taste was an assault on his tongue, but gradually as he took sip after sip, he started to think he was beginning to like it. He drank the occasionally average cup of joe, but never previously something as strong as this.

He sat in the corner, inconspicuous, blending into the crowd just enjoying their meals. Although his heart was racing slightly from if someone was to point him out, but so far the gossip that he'd managed to overhear primarily focused on Sullivan and the Oozma Kappas. Although this left a bad taste in his mouth, he realized this worked advantageously to him as a distraction. Something else came up in the conversation, but Randall didn't hear and he thought it was best that he minded his own business, kept his head down and ate. As Randall chewed vigorously, he couldn't help but cast his mind to the moment in the dark, on the wall above the simulator child. His stomach started to churn and as he looked down at his food, he suddenly didn't feel as hungry as he thought he was.

He remembered. He'd fallen. He'd NEVER do such a thing to jeopardize the Roars on purpose! Heck he'd jeopardized his own reputation! It was Sullivan. What other explanation was there? That gigantic rumble couldn't have been anything else!

'Perhaps he'd done it on purpose' he thought venomously. 'You know he despised you.' Randall's upper set of hands flew to his head, willing him to stop thinking so loudly. Forgetting where he was, he lowered them down slowly. But to him it had been a good point. Sullivan must have loved every second of it! Watching him yelp like a child and lose his composure. He growled a guttural sound, a monster sitting a few feet away turning and widening his eyes at him. Luckily, the female monster didn't recognize him.

A thought that suddenly came to him made him stop and widen his eyes. Maybe Johnny had thought he'd done it on purpose! That he'd been the quiet one, secretly willing to ruin the Roars on purpose!

'Now why'd they think that?' he asked himself. 'Mike?' His nervous hand twiddling returned like usual. 'Did they think I had some sort of debt to him; that I needed to somehow show them up to help his willing chances and get out of the brotherhood vow?' Randall's realization shocked him and he grasped the table with all four hands. That was why Johnny had been so cold! It had to be!

He jumped to his feet, his food abandoned. He had to find them. He had to explain! His feet slapped the cafeteria floor in impatience as his heart beat like a drum in his chest. Suddenly he felt his panic rising, as many monsters had turned to watch. They remembered it, he saw it in their eyes. One particular male student laughed heartily at him in his group of friends.

"Aww, have a heart Boggs!" Everyone threw their heads back in laughter. Randall wanted to die there and then. This time he couldn't help it. He involuntarily disappeared. "Come back cutie!" They all giggled even louder. He felt sick as his heart dropped to the floor, all his determination seeping out of him through his pores. For a moment, he thought he might even wet himself in fright. He ran out the doors, his throat constricting, feeling bile rising from within. Other students collided into him, confused at meeting an invisible wall.

He made it to the men monsters bathroom before throwing up into the bowl what little he had eaten. It burnt his mouth like acid. The retching continued until he was just dry heaving, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Sobbing quietly. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this; emotions dragging him towards a complete breakdown. After several more minutes, he stood and wiped his eyes pitifully. Legs trembling, he exited the stall. The bathroom was empty. Some luck.

He was done for today, he couldn't take another class. Blending before exiting the bathroom, he opened and closed the door and joined the quickly amassing crowd dragging themselves to their next classes.


	4. Chapter 4

Once outside, he struggled to concentrate enough to stay hidden. But he did, just barely. The thought of the lack of darkness kept his focus going. Suddenly exhausted, he sat awkwardly on the bench and breathed deeply. Tension had invaded his joints and he felt stiff, unable to move. He cautiously moved his hand to stroke his fronds.

Rather abruptly, he heard a recognizable voice coming towards his direction. Worthington. Shit. He'd forgotten this was one of the frats usual spots. He froze in his fear again. He'd been so ready before. So full of confidence to tell him it wasn't his fault. But now he knew he'd just do a piss poor job of explaining himself whilst feeling and looking so drained, instead he just listened as the Roars came closer.

"Johnny forget about him, he's history!" Chip shouted, getting annoyed.

"HE was the top prize. The image this fraternity needed. NEEDS, after that bastard Boggs shat on it." Worthington sneered. He puffed his chest out. "As my father always said, you cannot be the best without the best."

"That Wazowksi only held him back in the end!" Chet reminded him. "If he couldn't beat a beachball in a scare exam, he'd never have amounted to anything in the frat!"

"Or he would have only weakened our image." Javier inputted, his usual look of contempt still plastered to his face. Randall was rather surprised to hear him speak.

"No you're wrong. His performance in the scare games was proof enough that I had been right all along!" Worthington turned on his frat brothers, eyes in rage at their opposition to him. "He was elitist. For fuck sake, I kept his damn jacket!" He sighed, still enraged.

"That bastard lizard. I never saw that coming!"

"None of us did!" Javier retorted. "You think we thought a disposable would damage us that badly?"

"We ALWAYS knew you wanted Sullivan back Johnny!" Chet erupted. "Boggs was just a bit of fun. I honestly thought he'd join us again straight away."

"Well that FUN cost us our RESPECT!" Johnny brought his face intimidatingly close to Chet. Chet backed down.

Randall chastised himself, feeling degraded and broken. They hadn't chosen out of any appreciation at all. He realized Johnny wouldn't give a shit what he had to say, regardless of whether he'd had his little incident in the scare games or not. He'd been doomed from the start. Still blended, he looked down through himself. Hollow, nothing of worth. He began to despise Worthington for taking his value away from himself.

"Well…" Johnny sighed. "Least we won't have to see him and that Wazowski again."

'What?' Randall's fronds perked at his words. 'What the hell is he talking about?' All of the Oks were in the scare programme now. Weren't they?

He waited until they had left before re-appearing in the nearly deserted quad. Wiped out, he just wanted to go back to his hotel room. But first, he was determined to find out exactly what they had meant. Glancing around, Randall noticed the blue newspaper dispensers that house the university newspaper, 'The Campus Roar'.

"Hmm…" Everything about everything was in those pages. Nothing was story proof on this campus. Even the Roars prank on the Oozma's made the front page.

In a swift motion, he reached the box and gasped at the front page in shock. 'Freshmen Expelled'. A huge picture of Sullivan and Mike being escorted by several CDA agents out of the door tech lab plastered a wide portion of the paper. Sullivan had cheated. Mike hadn't won. Randall had been right about him and Sullivan all along. Mike was a destined failure. Sullivan had gotten his come-uppance. Although realizing this gave him no pleasure at all. The Roars may have technically won the game, but he was still trash to them. He only felt worse. Hatred at Sullivan. Hatred at Mike. They had escaped. He was still here, empty, alone.

Randall ripped the paper in half before sprinting to the hotel.

* * *

That evening, Randall felt like he had hit rock bottom. Proverbially trapped. He was the laughing stock of the entire university and an insult to the rest of the scarers in the programme. The Roars had treated him as dirt, mocked him, made him their scapegoat and used him until he no longer fit or was required for their purposes. Sullivan had destroyed his reputation. Mike had betrayed him. He had nothing left there.

No longer did he feel like he should be a student at Monsters University. Neither did he want to be. He had realized that morning in the lecture theatre, that this mockery could very well carry on throughout the rest of his time there. He'd always be the 'cute lizard', the one with a 'love for hearts'. This could absolutely ruin the point of even obtaining a scarers major. How could he call himself a monster who could strike fear into the hearts of children with this noose hanging around his neck?

Hardscrabble's words echoed in his mind… '_If you're not scary, what kind of a monster are you?_'

Sat hung over the bed, he closed his eyes in misery. He knew what needed to be done; wash his hands of this place, this lifestyle. Change his career, life purpose, surroundings. An engineer? He'd need a new major for that… no he had to completely forget it.

Out of options, he would do it. He was going to drop out of Monsters University.

He thought of his original daydream. Him, in Monsters Incorporated, the best scream company in the world, being somebody who everyone would look up to. Who everyone would want to be. The thought of this slipping away into darkness from his grasp saddened him immensely.

'You couldn't take the pressure anyway' the voice told him. He narrowed his eyes and sniffed, the tears appearing for the third time that day.

"NO!" He screamed, twisting and pounding his fist on the wall. "MONSTER UP! You weedy pathetic bastard." He bashed his head against the wall, ignoring the radiating hot pain from his skull. Panting, despite not using much effort, he dropped to the bed. He hugged himself with his limbs and tail. The pillow underneath him became damp from his tears. Finally, exhaustion overcame him and he slipped into a deep slumber.

Repeating yesterday morning's procedure, he stared into the mirror at the unrecognizable lizard monsters staring back at him. His eyes flared an even deeper red than before, almost streaking into his emerald iris.

Randall cursed his naivety. How he thought that he'd be accepted into the cliques so easily with just a couple of smiles and cupcakes. Maybe he'd been doomed from the start. He looked towards the bedroom quarters of the room. At least he was already packed.

Anxiety seized him, constricting his throat. Although he now believed he had no other choice other than to just give up on his scaring major, the disappointment of his parents, the mess of the paperwork and the look of the Dean as she heard him make his decision was an over-brewing torment to his otherwise heavy relief. There were fewer times than he could count on his hands when he had disappointed anybody and even then, they were trivial issues. The severity of this decision however terrified him.

His parents were nice enough, however after his sister decided to abandon university plans and go straight into work instead, they were intent on at least one Boggs gaining a higher education. His father was currently a partner in a mildly successful engineering business whilst his mother was a regional manager for a monster superstore. When he told them of his thoughts to attend Monsters University and major in scaring, they were thrilled, said for once it was a "relief to have more ambition in the family." Randall had felt pride hearing this, a grin lighting his face that was rather akin to a Christmas tree. However he also felt slight dismay.

Him and his sister had been rather close until she had been forced to move out by their parents. She was three years older than him; not too far apart to be 'friends'. Because of this, Randall had preferred to stay by her side throughout high school and not venture into unknown territory. Not too many friends came to mind when he thought about his high school days. Then, when she had left, he'd been vastly lonely. He became more withdrawn to the library instead of seeking more social contact. When he came to university, he promised himself he would be more outgoing.

'Look where that got you' he seethed at himself.

All he wanted right now was to leave and hide away from the disapproving looks of the world. The reflection staring back at him reminded him it was much more complicated than that.


	5. Chapter 5

"I see." Abigail Hardscrabble declared. She was sat in her rather organized and clean office. Across from her desk was a rather subdued Randall. From the chair he was sitting in, his feet could not even touch the ground. She drew in another breath before standing, her feet clicking on the wood as she walked to the window to gaze out.

"Mr Boggs." She began. Randall's fronds flicked in attention and he gulped slowly. "Do you know why our scaring programme has the prestigious reputation that it does?"

"It doesn't permit failure. Where one may succeed…" Randall's' voice quietened into nothing, now feeling shame from Hardscrabble's rather tactful conversation.

"Correct. Where we see potential, we nurture it and allow it to grow." She turned around to look at him, a hard look on her face. "What I see before me is a monster with the potential, but with a substantial lack of drive to reach it."

Randall said nothing.

"Very well. This situation is not new to me." She turned away from him again, more interested in the paperwork at the desk. Sitting back down again, she placed thin spectacles over her eyes and began to read. "You are released."

Randall, tense and quivering, stood on his four padded feet and shifted towards the door.

"And Mr Boggs." She finally looked up at him as he turned to see her face. "Do keep practicing that blending talent of yours. It'd be such a shame for a gift of that caliber to go to waste."

Randall managed a quick nod before rushing to leave.

* * *

Randall grasped the telephone receiver in his sweaty palms. He panted in slow but sharp breaths, his mouth drier than a desert, his mind filled with a concoction of torturous thoughts. What if she didn't pick up? What would he do then? He needed a few days to gather himself. To pick himself up. To summon that last morsel of courage to break the news to his mother and father. The relief from the conclusion of the meeting with Hardscrabble was already at an abrupt end. Panic rose to narrow his airway as he listened to the forever

The bags which surrounded him on the sidewalk near the telephone box was an imminent reminder of his current predicament. Sensations of being homeless at nineteen were not ones he had planned to experience. Nor the departure from a respected academic institution from a damaging incident.

"Yes?" Her familiar voice, albeit slightly distorted from the electronics, was audible and relieving.

"Vi…" He began, emotions already threatening to well over his barriers. "it's me."

"Randy?" Pleasure entered her voice. "Little brother." Neither could remember the last time they have spoken to one another. Randall felt guilt at his neglect to call. Even more so at what he was about to ask of her.

"Long time no speak."

The volume and pleasure dropped noticeably in her voice. "Yes. It has."

"I…" He began. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Randy don't be so serious!" She sighed. Randall could imagine her rolling her eyes at this point. "Got knocked a grade off at uni or something?" He only wished that was true. Usually the tone he adopted right now was exactly because of that. Not this time.

"N-no."

"Sorry, but can't it wait? I have to go to work in an…"

"NO! Listen to me! I'm…" An eerie silence adopted at the end of the phone, causing his voice to heighten in misery. "I'm alone out here! I don't know what to do! I had to leave!"

"Wha…. Slow down." A new tone of concern came from the earpiece. "You've… you've left uni? But? Why?!"

"I can't!" He cried, sobbing. "Not like this!"

"You need to come over. Now. Just… grab a cab, I'll pick up the fare." Then nothing.

Randall tried to regain control over himself. He was trembling like last night, wishing the world to swallow him. Putting the phone down, he hugged himself, rocking slightly back and forth, staring. Not caring for once if anyone saw him.

After what seemed like hours, he sighed. Fingers still shaking, he had a hard time picking up the receiver to dial again.

"Taxi please…" he hoarsely whispered.

* * *

Inside the vehicle, Randall felt rather claustrophobic. His scales felt itchy and his eyes irritated. Scratching and rubbing his arms he looked out of the dusty window, staring into space. The summer sun was climbing on its usual ascent to the sky, casting brightness down over Monsters University. However, with the once welcoming atmosphere at the start of the first semester as a freshmen now well and truly gone, the buildings looked intimidating and grey. The scaring school taunted him, with its sincere flag at full mast and foreboding proper domed roof. To look at it was a reminder that he'd never grace its sight again. There was some relief in this but also a tang of lament.

He had not made it among the best. All those dreams he had of becoming a scarer had just slipped through his fingers in the matter of just under forty eight hours. Randall had no clue where he stood now.

'If only you'd not fucked up so badly'.

Randall absent mindedly drew a picture in the dust on the window. The scaring school being attacked by a few hundred tentacles. A brief smirk appeared at the corners of his mouth. He wanted so badly to laugh again. To really laugh.

"Look I'm not gonna sit here all day. Where'd you wanna go?" The blue cabman gruffly asked, knocking Randall out of his daydreams. His eyes averted to the horn on the tip of the cabman's nose, slightly cracked. He swallowed before talking.

"Uh… 145 Screamore Road." He licked the inside of his drying mouth with his tongue, trying to calm himself down, wishing his claustrophobic feeling to go away. The cabman raised an eyebrow disconcertingly before sighing and turning away. He scratched his pot belly before placing the cab in gear and moving off.


	6. Chapter 6

"Thanks…" Randall said rather quietly. The cabbie did not take much notice of him, preferring to stay in his vehicle as Randall struggled to pull his suitcase from the boot.

'Weakling'

"Strengths gone right out of me." He mumbled to himself.

"Hello brother."

He turned in slight surprise. There she was. Slightly older than he recalled, or at least in looks she was. But she still was most certainly recognizable in look and likeness to him. Her expression was rather neutral, despite the pleasure he had heard on the end of the line. The corners of her mouth upturned slightly in a strange kind of welcome, before she turned away to the cab door.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Vivienne you don't have to…"

"As a matter of fact, I think it looks like I do." She cut in. Randall closed his mouth, not really in the mood to respond. She paid the driver and he left with a whirr of a scream from the engine. After a few seconds of standing looking away from one another, it felt suddenly awkward. Vivienne was the first to break the mold.

"Come inside." She paced over and picked up his case. Randall followed a short distance behind as they walked towards the steps up towards the block of flats.

Only now had he began to notice the exterior of the building. It looked rather generic, even cheap. Blocks of grey slab with the only decorations being that of scream cables and spiked guttering. Randall glimpsed up the street. It seemed to be this was the street of grey. He noticed the list of numbers on a board outside the main door, with buttons next to an array of names as telecommunications with each flat. Each plate did not look particularly grime free.

The patters of his and her bare toes on the cold surface echoed around the space as they walked up the stairs. On floor three, she stopped their ascent and headed to a door with an assigned number and a letter: 3C. Vivenne produced her keys and unlocked the door, making way for Randall to go inside before shutting it behind him.

Before Randall was a rather decent sized living area with an adjacent kitchen. All the basic necessities were there, clean and adequately equipped. The wallpaper in the living room was cream with decorations of silver swirls with matching curtains. Paint in the kitchen although slightly flaky in patches, was a considerate complementary white. The appliances matched. Even a moderately sized television was balanced on a small set of drawers in front of a bleach white couch. Randall's eyes widened at the couch. It looked rather obscure in this living room in comparison to the other plain armchairs; almost too fashionable.

"Oh yeah." Vivienne piped up as she saw his expression. "That was a gift from a friend. I know it doesn't really match, it's just… too nice to sell on." Randall slightly 'hmphed' in agreement, before averting his eyes from it. The awkwardness returned.

Vivienne was slightly taller than him and was different in colour and build. She was thinner in ratio to her height and was very pale blue. Her tail was short and she supported her weight on only one pair of legs instead of Randall's two. Along her back were stumpy fleshy appendages similar to that of his fronds, but much shorter and smoother in appearance that they looked akin to spines from a distance. She had only one set of hands with four padded fingers. When she finally decided to look back at Randall, she did so with rather plain hazel eyes.

"It's been a while since you called." She reminded him with her reasonably pitched voice. "I've missed you. What's happened?"

Randall gulped slightly. There was so much to tell and too much embarrassment. She may still have been his sister, but this atmosphere felt strange to him. He had never felt so out of his element around her before.

"I've… been busy." He managed to say, clasping his hands together nervously. "But, that doesn't mean I haven't missed you too…" The emotions were compiling again, tears threatening to spill. It made him wonder why he was trying so hard to hold back. One dripped through and he quickly wiped it away.

"Here." She appeared by his side with a tissue and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. At first he did not want to take it, but then he did out of politeness.

"I am sorry Vi." He sniffed, the process of holding back the tears growing increasingly difficult by the second. "Everything's gone to shit… I just, don't know what to do. How to talk about it."

"Look, how about you take a shower, maybe then we can talk." She suggested, slowly removing her hand and smiling at him. He looked up at her and nodded solemnly.

In the kitchen, Vivenne opened some cupboard doors and obtained two mugs.

"What'd you like? Some hot chocolate? Like old times." She flashed him a grin reminiscent of childhood.

"Black coffee would be nice." Randall replied, slightly more comfortable, but still feeling rather delicate. "Where is the uh…"

"Furthest door Randy. Down the corridor. The spare room that you can stay in is opposite."

"Thanks." He replied. "For this."

"You can stay as long as you like. No thankyous are required."

A faint wisp of a smile grew across his face as she leaned on the counter glancing back at him over her shoulder until he closed the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

The hot water poured over his violet and turquoise scales and in that moment of refreshment, Randall finally felt relaxed enough to close his eyes. He tilted his head back, savoring the feeling of the water splashing over his face, a relief to the array of angry spots beginning to increase in number on his face. Randall usually enjoyed having a refractory period of thought in the shower. However now, with the discomfort in being in a new place and the promise of a beautiful black cup of joe outside the shower, he decided to leave his sanctuary earlier than usual.

He dried himself and used the bathroom, before leaving and softly closing the door behind him. He looked towards the kitchen, hearing the pat of his sisters feet and decided to look inside his room first. Clasping his hands in anxiety again, he entered quietly so as not to alert her of his presence.

It was a pretty little room. Not to his usual taste and nothing like his old dorm room. But he was happy to be out of there and here. He pushed a tentative hand down on the bed. It was rather soft, but slightly creaky. The lack of pillows at first made him grimace but then he remembered his suitcase and his own collection of them.

"I was beginning to worry whether you had fell in the toilet or something!" Vivienne joked to him when he entered the living area. Randall tried a smile. It felt foreign on his face at the moment so he quickly dropped it. She held out his steaming hot mug to him and he took it. She showed him to the couch where he sat. She took one of the armchairs off to the right.

Randall felt the friendly liquid trickle down his throat and felt the burden of his decision lift some. The warmth seemed to extend fully along his long spine and to the tips of all twelve of his toes. Once again, he closed his eyes, and stretched backwards, his head diving into the material.

Vivenne felt the butterflies of worry hit her stomach. Randall looked terrible; a rather shy former monster to the one she had known. He even looked a paler violet. Sick. It made her back appendages stand on end. Whatever he had been through had shook him up pretty badly. Biting her lip, she wondered what she could say. If she could get him to talk. After a few minutes of watching Randall sip, she mustered the words.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, her face a sketch of seriousness.

Randall opened his eyes again and looked fearful. He ran a hand through his fronds which scattered above his head. Nerves pricked his scales.

"I can't go back there Vivienne." Randall declared. "I'm finished."

"What could possibly have gone so wrong? You were always so determined at high scho-."

"-I just fell in with the wrong crowd. Believed they liked me. Believed they valued me. I did mess up and made myself look a laughing stock in front of the entire university." He sighed a heavy sigh. Each breath eased his pain slightly. "…But they didn't want me then. They showed their true colours; they only used me to get to someone else."

"Then they weren't worth it." Vivenne stared at him, the caring manner of an older sibling returning to her character. "You should have talked to me before you know. If something was bothering you. Maybe then it wouldn't have come to this."

"Maybe it wouldn't have…" Randall put his chin on his upper hand. His eyes were wetting again. "Either way, it's done now. No more big scarer job for me."

Vivenne raised an eye. "Surely that wasn't the only reason you were doing that major for right?"

"Well no, of course not. I did want it enough." Randall turned to her, eyes suddenly showing a glint of flame; defensiveness. "It just happens to be one of the best jobs in the monster world. Forgive me if I'm a little upset about losing that opportunity."

"Look, don't get your tail in a twist Randy. There are other opportunities out there!"

"Please don't call me that"

Vivenne looked puzzled. "What?"

"Randy. At least. Not again yet."

Vivenne took a sip of her coffee, suddenly losing her voice. She had not noticed that it had already been a few minutes and the hot drink was already losing heat. She groaned to herself.

"I suppose our parents don't know anything about this yet…" She then wondered whether she had spoke of this too soon and cursed herself silently.

"Oh… shit… I hadn't thought of that." Randall suddenly stood up too fast, shaking the television on the stand. "Hardsrabble must have told them! Oh shit, shit shit…"

"Randall calm down. They'll get over it." Trying to calm him, she stood up too, and grabbed his shoulders. "Whilst me and them aren't exactly on great speaking terms right now, they respected my decision. And they WILL respect yours."

He tried to slow his quickening breaths and looked up at her. "You think so?" he asked, childlike.

"If not, I'll make them." She told him seriously. She placed a hand on her chest "Hand on heart, I promise it'll be okay." Randall said nothing, he just nodded. Vivienne finally let go of his shoulders, feeling slightly awkward again.

"So uh… want to watch some television?"

"Sure."

So they sat back down and wasted some hours in front of the box, one trying to put that day's events behind them, the other secretly happy to be spending time with her brother again.

* * *

Randall turned in early that night without an appetite for dinner. He had to unpack anyway. Lying under the duvet amongst his pillows and comforter, he listened to the distant hum of the television as Vivenne stayed up longer. She had said goodnight quietly, but told him that her work schedule meant she probably would not see him again until tomorrow evening. When he heard that, he felt a pang of guilt. All he had talked about that night was him. He had to admit he was interested in what his sister had been doing these past two years. He had barely spoke a word to her since she left and he needed to make the time up.

Despite Vivenne's efforts to console him, anxiety still remained over the subject of calling his parents. No doubt they would probably be worried, but he feared that worry would be masked by a scowl of disappointment and anger at his 'selfishness'. He was not sure on how well he could cope with a response of that caliber. For once in his life, he wished he could be cathartic.

Gradually he tired and drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

The outstretched lizard monster awoke when a patch of sunlight cascaded down onto his face. Grimacing at the intrusion, he gradually opened his eyes, adjusting to the intrusion. At first, he was disorientated, before he remembered what happened and sighed heavily. Silence, except for the slow ticking of a clock on the wall.

'11:49am'.

'Damn, I slept in all morning?' he pondered, his fronds perking at this news. 'Well, maybe you needed it fella.'

Stretching and rising with a crack of his back, he went to pee in the bathroom before stumbling into the kitchen. Only at this point did he feel the craving need in his stomach to consume food. He thought there was not much point in finding cereal at this time of the day, so he considered a brunch of rotten eggs and bloody bacon. If he could find the ingredients that is. As a matter of fact, it did not take him too long. His sister, from the times she used to cook always used to place products in certain allotments in the fridge, segregating everything off neatly. Randall used to wonder whether she was obsessive compulsory about food. Even in general. Looking around, even here, everything seemed neat and to have its place. Although he could not admit to being as ultimately equally precocious at an earlier age than her, some organization soothed him.

Although it wasn't baking, he equally enjoyed the cooking process of flipping eggs and turning the bacon rashes. The stink was wonderful as the food fried. He ate in peace that afternoon, but then wondered what to do with himself next. He was not ready yet to call his parents, particularly since it had only really been twenty four hours since his pinnacle of stress.

The sensation was alien to say the least. Randall could not remember a time when he had had nothing to do. What would keep him occupied most of the time during term time was assignments and exam preparations. During holidays, he would stay in, help around the house, bake or tinker with the assortment of mechanical appliances that the Boggs household had. But this was not his home. He'd eaten his sister's food out of necessity, not particularly for enjoyment, hoping she wouldn't mind. He thought it'd be inconsiderate if he baked unnecessarily and without permission; he'd certainly not touch the appliances unless asked, even if he thought he did have considerable skills to understand what he was doing. Boredom had struck him hard.

Not wanting to leave the flat, he noticed a pile of books on a table besides Vivienne's armchair.

'Better that than nothing'

He curled up in the chair and grabbed the book at the top of the pile. Then he remembered his broken glasses. He sighed and growled in frustration, knowing that with those broken lenses it'd probably make no difference anyway. Squinting more heavily than usual, he tried to make out the words.

'Spleen and sufficiency: a love story'

Randall curled his lip; not the particular genre of book which he was avid to read. Flicking through a few of the other titles, he noticed they were of similar agenda to the first book. He pursed the tip of his tail before rolling his eyes and delving in.

When Vivenne returned at 6 o'clock that day, he was still sat reading. Although looking almightily less stressed than he had first been, he already looked bored. Upon hearing her enter, he jumped and got onto all four of his feet. This yet reminded Vivienne that looks were deceiving; he'd need a lot more time to get over the traumatic whirlwind of the past couple of days.

She looked at him blankly

"Relax. I don't mind." She unbuttoned her coat and hung it in its usual place on the hanger. She rubbed her shoulder, fatigue closing in over her. Randall looked on, unsure of how to proceed.

"…Uh… how was your day?"

"Fine" she replied curtly. "Not particularly different from the last day. Or the day before that." It was rather unusual to know that her brother would be staying for a while. Despite enjoying his company last night, she had felt today some need to keep some of her thoughts to herself.

"What'd you like for dinner?"

"I'll eat anything. Thanks" Randall's eyes darted away from her neutral gaze. "Want me to help?"

Too tired to care much, she just shrugged. Randall took the hint and silently started to try and find his way around the kitchen. He understood that gathering anticipation for a luxuriously cooked dinner was rather fruitless given the tired look his sister sported.

It was simple but quite filling. Raw meat with a side of damp moss and spoiled vegetables. Although he kept his cool, he still noted the note of unease that pertained from the previous day. Randall knew he was welcome to stay, but he clearly saw that his sudden appearance had somewhat put his sister one edge. He didn't particularly blame her for wanting to stay this quiet for now; she had not expected to have another guest living in the house. Especially one that although was family, she had not spoken to for a rather long time. Randall sincerely hoped that it would not be like this forever; he'd want the relationship back with her that he'd had before all the university business.

She did too. Although she also knew a lot had changed since then. Whilst Randall was in the state that he was, she was reluctant to update him on the details that had happened since the cease of contact. Particularly since she had not been overly truthful the last time they had spoken on a comfortable basis.

* * *

That strange quickly staling phase in the apartment of 3C continued for around two weeks. Randall would sleep in rather late, eat breakfast and pick up novel after novel which he found absolutely tiresome until Vivienne returned home from work. In a short time span, the rather peaceful and comforting décor and atmosphere of the apartment had become a strain to his eyes and cramped. He didn't even know what day it was anymore; it all seemed to blur together now. However, despite these feelings, he felt too much of a burden to mention this to his sister. Even if he also hated this emptiness in his life.

His life had halted to a standstill. He could not go back yet the lack of progress moving forward was slowly dwindling the passion to learn that once burned in efficacy. Randall wondered whether the amount of sleep he was getting was affecting his depression and social anxiety, or whether it was some kind of new outlook that told him he was destined for a future life of this failure. Ultimately though, it was the latter thoughts that scared him more; Randall had never predicted this. He was always the good student, full of beans, ready to take on almost any theoretical problem. Now, even his love of mechanical tinkering was drifting away.

"Vivienne I can't take much more of this."

"I know. Don't think that I don't know what you do all day." She looked down on him, not with sympathy this time, but with a hardened glint in her eye. Then she took a sip of her coffee before almost balancing it with her plump fingers. "This needs to stop Randall."

"I know it does…"

"It's for your own good. Hiding away doesn't make it any better." She sighed. "Believe me, they've been times that I've been there." Randall felt his eyes getting wetter. He inwardly fought against the barrier spill, winning this time. God, with the amount of practice he'd had with this, he considered himself an expert now.

Vivienne put the coffee down and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You need to phone mom and dad. Now."

The hot sting of panic protruded through his chest, clamping his stomach and driving sweat to his wet his brow.

"I-I know, but I-I don't think I can." He breathed in deeply. Vivienne sighed and moved quickly away. Randall thought she had moved on to another task. Heck with the few times this conversation had already tried to come to light the past few days, Vivienne had every right to be frustrated with him. All he had done was shrug it off, pretended it wasn't a reality. But even he had to admit he was done with that.

Vivienne came back through with a cordless phone in her hand. It was already dialing, judging from the soft noise coming from the earpiece.

'Shit, no going back now'. Randall gulped inaudibly. His tail twitched in short bursts, clearly giving away his overwhelming anxiety. Vivienne just handed him the phone and gave a hint of a smile.

"You'll be fine."

He clasped the earpiece to the side of his head, the receiver feeling clammy in his gradually warming fingers.

"Hello?" The feminine tones of the voice on the other end of the phone told him it was his mother. His tongue licked his lips and he willed his voice to respond.

"….h-hi mom." The silence on both ends was torturous for a few seconds.

"Randall, where have you been? We expected you to call earlier than this."

"I've…. been busy, not really been able to get to the phone." He whispered, lying through his teeth. "I-I'm staying with Vivienne."

"Hmm… guess I should have known." Her reply had a trace of venom. Only a trace yet Randall heard it like a cannon on a battlefield.

"I-I-I guess the d-dean has called."

"… Yes." Randall felt the sinking in the pit of his stomach at the indication of her disappointment. "I need to know. Did she have anything to do with this?"

Randall immediately came to his sister's defense. "Wha-what? Of course not! Why would you thi-"

"Well it's only a natural inclination to think, considering your sister abandoned a similar scenario and ended up in a predicament."

"She isn't in a predicament. She's doing fine. Great by the looks of things on my end." Randall jumped back in, his confidence growing.

"Sorry to think that. But we cannot hide our disappointment. We do not really understand your motives behind this, so naturally we jump to that conclusion."

Randall sighed, not knowing what else to say. His mother continued after a few moments of quiet.

"Your father is not particularly pleased. If it was not you sister, what happened?"

"It…. doesn't matter. I just couldn't stay." Randall replied with difficulty. Thankfully his mother did not push further, but something told him a future request may mean he would have to break down that barrier. Later though. This was already stressful enough.

"We will need to talk about this properly soon. Thankyou for letting us know son… even if it has been two weeks." Then the phone went dead. Randall breathed out, releasing tension he did not know had accumulated. His rigid fronds drooped in relaxation. Despite a few residual feelings of anxiety for the many conversations that would no doubtily come between him and his parents, he was relieved to find it was not as bad a conversation as he would have predicted before.

He was moving forward, and Randall took at least some comfort in this.


	9. Chapter 9

"Thankyou, see you next week!"

The customer smiled at her generosity before collecting the assortment of bags in a number of tentacles. With a crinkle of plastic and squelching of flesh, Vivienne watched him leave through the furthest doors. As soon as the customers were out of her view, she dropped the act: the fake smile, bittersweet tone and somewhat condescending 'can I help you questions'.

The clock smirked, mockingly glaring down at her from the wall. The second hand baited her, ticking at an increasingly slower pace the more she watched it. Her legs ached from the strain of the day and her back even more so. All she wished was for the shift to end, for her to return to her abode and hide away from the world until tomorrow. Tomorrow when it would all begin again. She sighed at the monotony.

"Vi!" A stout yet short dark green monster called, propping up on four spindle like tentacles. "Call for you."

"Okay Gerry." She left the counter and paced towards the back office. Leaving it unattended for a few minutes certainly couldn't hurt. Spotting the receiver from the phone on its side on the desk, she rushed to pick it up. If it was the monster she thought it was, she hoped this call would not take up a huge proportion of her time.

"Hey" the low voice on the other end of the line. A simple word, yet soothing to her ears.

"Hey you". Vivienne let herself smile genuinely for the first time in the day. "How are you?"

"The usual. Better now I'm hearing your voice again." He gave a small laugh, the phone crackling in its wake. "I didn't think I would so soon but… I miss you. When can we go out for dinner sometime?"

Vivienne's back fronds and eyelids drooped in frustration.

"Ugh, its complicated right now… you know with my brother being back and all." She sighed heavily. That and another issue was making her feel awkward. "Also, I well… I haven't really told him about us or… about my job. My real job."

Then she panicked some. "But I was going to! Just… not yet."

"He'll find out sooner or later Vi. I know you said he was going through a tough time but it'll be even tougher if this goes on long enough and he finds out his sister has been lying to him."

"Not telling him about you was not a lie!" Although even at that Vivienne found her defense to be full of holes. "I was just… avoiding the situation."

"Well don't." He replied back, reassuring her. "Get your boss to get him into your work. You know, kill two birds with one stone."

"If Gerry allows it…" Vivienne muttered. The thought of such a scenario was discomforting to say the least. It made her stomach churn, stirring the flutter of butterflies. "Okay. I'll do it."

She wondered how much time had passed. Too much probably.

"I have to get back to work. Over and out."

"Over and out beautiful."

She replaced the hand receiver, sighed again and began her return to the counter. It felt like her burden would snap her spine in two with its weight. Or maybe she was over-reacting about it. Maybe he would not take it too badly. She did not have enough time to ponder further before bumping into Gerry on her way out of the office.

"Less personal calls please darling." Gerry shook his head at her and tutted. "We've talked about this…"

"Right, okay, sorry." Vivienne replied, not really fully listening. When he was behind her, she curled her lip.

Could a monster get anymore monstrous than him?

* * *

It was another couple of days before Vivienne could approach Randall on the topic of the phone conversation. She had been busy and he had been somewhat out of sight. However, as they sat at the table with their favourite drink, he appeared more approachable and she decided it better to raise it once more.

"So when do you plan on seeing them?" Vivienne asked over her Saturday morning coffee.

"I'm not sure…" Sitting across from her on the sofa, Randall ran a hand through his fronds, scattering them across his crest. "Sometime soon… I guess." He gave a shrug and embarrassingly looked away from his sister's gaze. He was beginning to get annoyed at how every time the subject was brought up, he would repeat this reaction. She raised her eyebrow and it grew suddenly quiet.

"What are you doing in this morning Vivienne? Don't you uh- have work?"

Randall had actually been surprised when he got up that morning to find his sister still in the apartment. He had barely seen her over the past two weeks as each time he had awakened she had already left the flat. Now here they were casually drinking coffee. Intuition led him to understanding that that had been due to her work hours. Before he went to university, he had heard through the grapevine and his parents that she had secured a rather comfy management position. Where or when he was not aware of, but perhaps this gave him some new lead of conversation, rather than the repetitive talk over his own situation.

"No, not today. I booked today off a while ago." Randall noticed her stiffen slightly when he mentioned it, her tail suddenly flicking slightly. Confusion overtook him at this, but for the moment, he decided to ignore it.

"Oh, okay…" Hoping to continue the course of the conversation, he decided to press further. "Um, what is it exactly you do Vivienne?"

"Oh, you know… the general manager stuff. Overviewing paperwork, managing people." She smiled wryly. "Well, you can't expect a manager to not manage right?"

Randall smirked. He drank the coffee in front of him with greed. "Depends on the quality of the manager."

"Enough of the provoking you!" She smirked back, laughing slightly. He laughed along.

"That's why I'm your brother!"

'This is something new from him…' she thought internally. He had never really made a sarcastic remark at her when she was younger. But heck, he was older, wiser and perhaps building some of the confidence he once had back. She welcomed this newly released aptitude. However, her thoughts returned to her parents

"They thought it was me didn't they." She suddenly said in seriousness. Randall stopped and nodded. He rolled his eyes.

"Guess I should have seen that one coming." His gaze hardened. "But you should not have to take my falls for it. My decision has and always will be my own."

If Vivienne had eyebrows, one would be arched.

"Still though, like I said, I'm just not ready to see them yet…"

She understood his emotional turbulence more than she let him know at that point. The whole experience transported her back two years prior, an unsettling time warp. She felt the relief of following her own path yet the icy guilt of falling short in her parent's expectations. Fear had taken over her, beginning to poison every decision. She felt like a tightrope walker with not net to catch her if she fell, venturing singularly across trying to balance new priorities and new problems. Overall, she had been rather lucky in the following months, adapting to her new environment.

Despite her own gratitude for her self-accomplishments, analyzing the details with her brother in front of her was making her feel sick. She had not been completely truthful to her family. She could live with not being truthful to her parents, but it felt overwhelmingly wrong to do this to her brother. Her exemplary efforts over the past few weeks caused her to coil her tail even further in a shadow of shame. It would happen soon, the tidbits of information had to come out at some point. Maybe all she needed to do is point the situation in the right direction.

"Will you be searching for a job then?"

He looked at her again with that hint of anxiety.

"Probably… well, I don't really even know where to start."

"Well…. maybe in the meantime… perhaps… you can come and help out round the store?"

"Your store?"

"Well… of course!" She rolled her eyes. Was this telling lies now?

"Sure." He nodded once, then returned to his coffee. Vivienne decided to say no more about it. Expression neutral, he decided to focus more on the drink slipping down his throat than his sister's proposal. Not that he was anxious at all to be in another monsters company besides his sisters.

'_Oh grow up_' he told himself. It calmed his mind some, yet he still felt the remnants of butterflies.

"Let's go out for a walk." Vivienne said, finally getting to her feet and stretching her back. "I could do with the fresh air." When Randall initially made no attempt to move, she looked down at him and repeated her eye roll.

"And so do you!"

Randall barely had time to finish his coffee before he was grasped by his upper wrist and pulled out the door.

* * *

AUTHORS NOTE = the scene with Vivienne in the store felt right. I decided to write that after I had completed the following passage. I'm trying to go easy with the pace; I guess its part of evolving as a writer but I'm wondering what exactly to include and not to include over this ten year period before Monsters Inc. I don't want this story to be too slow for you guys in that it gets tedious and a chore to read, but then I feel a certain bit of mundane is needed. That's how life goes, it gets more interesting at points, then it becomes a routine until something else happens to peak interest.

Feel free to write my criticism. I'd prefer if it was constructive as then I understand what is liked in addition to what is not liked. However, whilst I may still receive criticism, I must state that after having a writers block for so long, I'm enjoying being back in the saddle again and don't intend to stop anytime soon.


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